


Collars and Tails

by ghostofgatsby



Series: a tail-waggin’ good time [3]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Collars, Cuddling, Fluff, Gentle BDSM, Hand Feeding, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7340863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smith carries the box to his room and shuts the door, trying to calm himself down. He shouldn’t feel like he should be hiding.<br/>It’s just a collar.<br/>But now that Smith has it in his hands, he’s picturing Trott wearing it.<br/>He can feel the buckle between his fingers. Already he knows what it’ll feel like to buckle it around Trott’s neck, because they’ve used the old collar in a scene maybe a half-dozen times, now.<br/>It shouldn’t affect him like this- but there’s something about this that Smith likes a lot. The idea that the collar Trott wears is <em>his</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collars and Tails

**Author's Note:**

> The last in the series, as far as I'm thinking. probably needed some more editing, but meh.  
> And I think I like the first one in the series best for its simplicity, but you can't go wrong with more adorable puppy play in my book.
> 
> If you're not subscribed you might have missed the High Rollers one shot I posted a few Mondays back. It's under ao3 only, so if that sounds like something you'd like to read, check it out. Or even if it isn't. You might like it, you never know.
> 
> I’m thinking Trott’s collar is something like this, only in bright/light robin’s egg blue or something:  
> http://www.leatheretc.com/fetish/E705_Bondage_Collar.html
> 
> Why a Scottish terrier? Scotties are short but sturdy. They are territorial, alert, and quick. They are often feisty, independent and self-assured, playful, intelligent and ruggedly determined. Very loving, but can be stubborn and somewhat aloof. (info from the always helpful Wikipedia~)
> 
> Oreos just happened to be what I was eating when I first wrote this.
> 
> There aren't any cws that I can think of. If I need to tag something, let me know.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2016/06/29/collars-and-tails-ghostofgatsby/

"How...complicated, I guess, do you want this to be? Like, you said earlier that you weren't into acting like a dog when you eat and stuff." Smith leans up against the kitchen counter. He wants a bit more out of this puppy play stuff he and Trott do together, and wants to know what else Trott is willing to do.

Trott carefully dices cucumbers into chunky slices. “I'd rather be fed by hand then eat out of a dog bowl or something. And the only reason I don't want to walk around on my hands and knees is because the carpet's hard and we don't have knee pads." Trott shrugs. When he gets to the end of the vegetable, he sets the knife aside and puts the cucumber slices into a plastic container.

"Can we _get_ knee pads?" Smith asks with a cheeky smile. He steals a slice of cucumber from the container and munches happily.

Trott laughs. "Sure." He carries the knife and cutting board to the sink and rinses them off.

“What about tails?”

“Well, this isn’t a sexual thing for me, so order one with a belt, not a butt plug.”

“We have plenty of plugs anyway.” Smith grins.

Trott smiles and shakes his head. He leaves the knife and cutting board in the sink, drying off his hands on the nearby tea towel. “Other than that...I don’t really want ears or anything else. Sound good?” He looks towards Smith.

Smith snags another slice of cucumber. “Absolutely. As long as you’re comfortable, Trott, I’m comfortable, too.” He grins.

Trott chuckles and grabs the container of cucumbers off the counter before Smith eats them all.

 

* * *

 

The tail Trott orders is made of smooth, black silicone, a foot long, and crescent shaped. It has a flat, rectangular, faux-leather holster at the end with slots for a belt.

Smith wags it back and forth in his hand, listening to the sound it makes as it waves through the air. It’s like a toy rubber snake, but thicker and sturdier. “If you were a puppy, what kind of puppy would you be?” he asks Trott.

Trott’s reading the instruction papers that came with the tail. What a nerd.

“What breed of dog would I be?” Trott thinks for a moment. “Probably a Scottish terrier.”

Smith grins. “A wee Scottish doggie?” he asks in a Scottish brogue.

Trott looks up and scowls. “Fuck _off_.”

“Greyfriars’ Bobby!”

“Greyfriars’ Bobby was a _Skye_ terrier, not a Scottie.”

“I’ll have t’ ship ya back to the motherland!” Smith says through his teeth, slapping Trott’s hip lightly with the tail in his hand.

“Oh, fuck you, Smith.” Trott flips him off. He shakes his head and looks back down at the papers in his hands.

Smith laughs. He steps closer to Trott and tugs at his belt. “You gonna try it on, or what, Trott?”

“I’m not done reading.”

“ _Trott_. Come on, I bet you’ll look even more adorable.” He hooks his fingers into Trott’s belt and Trott tries to bat his hands away.

“Can’t you wait a minute?”

Smith whines.

Trott sighs heavily and relents, setting the papers on the counter and raising his hands so Smith can get at his belt. “You’d think _you_ were the puppy with how excited you were when I opened the box...” he grumbles.

 

* * *

 

The second package Smith orders arrives while Trott’s out running errands.

This one was an order he was more nervous about. He carries the box to his room and shuts the door, trying to calm himself down. He shouldn’t feel like he should be hiding. Trott wouldn’t be back until later, anyway, and this wasn’t going to be a huge deal.

It’s just a collar.

Smith sits down at his desk with the box in his lap. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and carefully cuts the tape sealing the box shut. He sets aside the boxcutter with a shaky hand and opens up the box, removing the bubble packaging and taking out his purchase.

He bought Trott a collar. A new leather one, fancier than the last. Blue to bring out his eyes. He had the collar custom made after Trott had found the website he used previously and passed the link on to Smith. The leather is soft and supple. There’s a single silver ring at the front, and a silver plate at the back where the buckle is, which has a T engraved in fancy script. It’s simple, style-wise. But now that Smith has it in his hands, he’s picturing Trott wearing it.

He can feel the buckle between his fingers. Already he knows what it’ll feel like to buckle it around Trott’s neck, because they’ve used the old collar in a scene maybe a half-dozen times, now. Though the color and style is a little different, the buckle is more or less the same.

Smith carefully puts the collar back in the box and closes it. He carries it into Trott’s room to wait for him to get home. All day he’s been waiting, and now he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It shouldn’t affect him like this- it’s just a collar.

Every time they used the collar in a scene, Smith finds himself drawn to that moment between them. A moment in which Trott trusts in him, where all the worries of his day melt into a background hum.

There’s a lot online about collars being A Big Deal to people in the kink scene. Smith knows, and he and Trott agree, that it doesn’t hold so much weight with them personally. It’s not a wedding ring or a sign of ownership.

But there’s something about this that Smith likes a lot. The idea that the collar Trott wears is _his_.

He knows Trott won’t mind that he bought a new collar for him. Smith’s just overwhelmed that it’s a thing for him at all. That’s where the uncertainty lies- not with Trott, not with their scening- with himself.

 

“Sit down.”

“Why...?”

“Just _sit_ , Trott.” Smith guides him to sit down on the edge of the bed, and kneels before him. He keeps himself from saying “good boy” because now isn’t the time. “I got you something,” he says instead, pulling the shoe-sized box out from under the bed.

Trott visibly relaxes when Smith hands him the box, understanding slowly.

Smith sits back on his haunches. He watches Trott open the box and lift the collar from it, quietly turning it in his grasp.

“You bought me a collar?” Trott asks, raising his head and meeting Smith’s eyes.

“Yeah.” Smith swallows thickly. “Yeah, I did.” He smiles nervously. “Do you like it?”

“I do. Thank you, sunshine...” Trott traces the engraved T on the back with his thumb, and offers the collar to Smith. “Would you put it on me?”

“O-Of course.” Smith carefully lifts the collar from Trott’s hands, and takes a deep breath. “I kind of...well, I’ve said before that this is...A Thing...for me. I really like this puppy play stuff we do, and I like it when you wear a collar. It’s weird, I know, but...”

“No weirder than I am, sunshine.” Trott says with a smile. He scoots off the end of the bed and sinks to his knees in front of Smith.

“I know, but it’s...it’s weird for _me_. That this means so much. I like the idea of...ownership. I mean, I don’t _actually_ want to own you, because you’re your own person, but...there’s something about the idea of you wearing this,” he admits. He looks up from where he’s fiddling with the buckle and meets Trott’s warm brown eyes.

Smith smiles and chuckles a little at himself. “I just...I really like the idea that...well, that there’s something of mine that’s yours, you know? That...you really are mine, as I’m yours.” he finishes.

Trott smiles back at him softly, reaching out a hand and stroking his cheek. “You don’t need a collar for that, sunshine,” he murmurs, “This kink stuff doesn’t change how I feel about you, with it or without it.”

Smith pecks a kiss to the inside of Trott’s wrist. “I know. But I like it. If you’d...want it, too.”

Trott lowers his hand back to his lap. “Please?” He asks, just a bit teasingly and just a bit pleading.

It’s exactly what Smith needs. He holds his hands shoulder-length apart with both ends of the collar held between his grip. He waits as Trott bows his head forward, hair falling into his eyes.

Gently and with care, Smith’s hands bring the ends of the collar around Trott’s neck and fasten the buckle. “There...” He sighs, running two fingers between collar and skin, checking the fit. “How is it?”

Trott lifts his head slowly. His hand reaches up and his fingers curl around the o-ring in the center. “It’s good. It’s really good.” He looks up and meets Smith’s eyes.

Like Smith thought, the blue is a good contrast with his brown irises. The silver ring rests perfectly in the hollow of his throat. Fuck, Trott looks good like this. Already the lines of his shoulders have lost tension from a long day of work.

“You like it?” Smith asks again.

Trott nods.

“Good...me too.”

The two of them share a smile.

Trott folds into Smith’s arms, and Smith holds him tightly and kisses the top of his head. Purchase well made. Money well spent.

 

* * *

 

"Trott, what do you want for a snack in scene?" Smith calls, opening up a cabinet and looking for snackable things.

"I bought some oreos at the store yesterday. Oreos with peanut butter would be good." Trott answers.

"Peanut butter?" Smith asks in confusion. He looks over at Trott, who’s sitting at the kitchen table, finishing a sudoku puzzle.

"Yeah?” Trott looks up. “What, have you never had that before?"

"No. I'm not sure we have any peanut butter, either. I _might_ have eaten it all..." Smith winces, pushing around a few boxes in search of any spreadable treat.

"Luckily for you, I bought another jar. Unless you ate the entirety of it last night. Should be to your left."

"Fuck, you did?" Smith opens up the cabinet next to him and grabs the new jar with a smile. "You did! Yes! Trott, you're the best!"

Trott grins. "I know. That's why I get the treats."

"Yeah, you do!" Smith laughs. He plates up a handful of oreos, sticks the peanut butter jar and a couple of water bottles under his arm, grabs a butter knife, and starts towards the bedroom. "Come on, Trotty. Let's go." He jerks his head in the direction he's walking and Trott eagerly hops off his chair to follow behind.

 

When they walk into Trott’s bedroom, Smith sets everything down on the nearby desk and hands Trott the knee pads first. Trott slides them up his legs. Smith hands him the belt with the tail. Trott puts that on, and makes sure the flat of the tail rests above his tailbone.

Smith takes the collar off the desk. “Ready?”

Trott nods and smiles back.

Smith buckles the collar around Trott’s neck.

“Good? Great. Down, boy.”

Trott kneels at Smith’s feet, wagging his tail and watching Smith spread peanut butter on the oreos.

Smith looks over and grins before continuing to split the oreos one at a time. He takes a bite of one and smirks at Trott’s resultant whine. Peanut butter is a thousand times better than mayo or vinegar and salt.

“These _are_ pretty good.” Smith says, wiping crumbs off his face with a hand.

Trott rolls his eyes. Smith can hear the unspoken “told you so”. He smirks.

“Up on the bed.” Smith gestures and carries the plate over, watching Trott clamber up and making sure he doesn’t hurt himself. “Sit. Good boy.”

Trott sits at the edge of the bed, and Smith takes an oreo off the plate.

“Now...stay still...” He says, balancing the cookie on the bridge of Trott’s nose. “Steady...”

He can tell Trott's trying not to laugh.

Smith beams. “Steady...”

Trott licks his lips. His eyes narrow in on the precarious oreo.

“Get it!”

Trott moves his head and catches the oreo between his teeth, grinning.

Smith laughs. “You caught it! Good boy...” He holds his hand under Trott's mouth to catch the crumbs as Trott chews. Trott smirks happily, and when he's finished the cookie, licks Smith's palm clean.

“Eugh...” Smith wipes his hand on his jeans in disgust.

Trott smiles.

Smith grins back. “Another?”

Trott gives him an enthused nod, and they do the same thing again. Trott doesn’t catch it the second time, but Smith does before the oreo falls on the floor.

“Almost. Let’s try again.”

Second time’s the charm.

“Good boy, good job,” Smith praises him, taking a third peanut-buttered oreo from the plate. “One more. Ready?”

Trott nods again, pawing at the comforter on the bed.

Smith balances a cookie on the bridge of Trott’s nose again.

The third successful catch comes easily. Smith wipes a smidge of peanut butter from the corner of Trott’s mouth and kisses him. “Good job. So good. Such a good boy.” He murmurs, one hand cradling Trott’s cheek as he kisses him.

Trott hums happily.

Smith leans back and ruffles his hair. “You thirsty? Stay here.” He leaves his side for a moment and gets a water bottle off the desk. He cracks the cap off and tilts the bottle to Trott’s lips so he can drink.

Smith sits back on the bed, and he and Trott share the rest of the cookies on the plate. They munch quietly in between drinks of water. Smith pets Trott’s hair when they’re done, rubbing behind his ear. Trott leans towards his touch and smiles.

“You wanna lay down for a bit?” Smith asks, stroking his hand down Trott’s neck. He hooks a finger in the ring on his collar and tugs playfully.

Trott nods, and Smith makes himself more comfortable on the bed. He guides Trott to lay down with his head in Smith’s lap, and runs his fingers through Trott's soft hair.

But Trott squirms a bit, rolls over onto his back, and looks up pleadingly.

“What? Stomach ache from all those fucking oreos?” Smith jokes.

Trott smirks.

“Alright...” Smith sighs. “You’re too fucking cute, you know that?” He relents, rubbing above Trott’s navel in gentle motions.

Trott stares up at him with a pleased smile, his brown eyes half-lidded.

 

They take a little time to let themselves digest their snack, and a little while later, Smith gets up. He sets the empty plate and water bottles aside on the desk and takes out something he’d hidden earlier.

“Hey, Trott- look what I got.” He squeezes the toy in his hand, and it squeaks loudly.

Trott sits up straight.

Smith chuckles. “Wanna play?” He grins and squeaks the toy again.

Trott nods, and gets up on his hands and knees, wagging his tail. The silicone wags back and forth, making a _thwump-thwump-thwump_ noise against the fabric of Trott’s shorts.

“Okay. Good boy. Off the bed, now, careful...”

Smith had laid a blanket on the floor earlier, for extra padding between the floor and Trott’s knees. As much as he joked about Trott being “always on your knees you filthy bugger”, he didn’t actually want him to hurt himself.

Smith kneels down on the floor, too, tapping the toy in his hands. It was just a simple stuffed bone-shaped toy, made of something softer than normal dog toys so it won’t ruin Trott’s teeth.

“You want to fetch, yeah? Go get it!” He tossing the toy gently ahead of him. Not too far, but enough of a distance for Trott to actually fetch it.

But when Trott gets to the toy, he flops down beside it and chews on it, trying to find the sweet spot that made all those squeaking noises.

“What, I thought you were going to fetch. Come on, don’t you want me to throw it again?” Smith asks. “Trott?”

He gets muffled growl noises in reply. Trott wags his tail back and forth.

Smith laughs and holds out his hands. “Stop being adorable and bring it back!”

Trott growls again.

“ _Trott!_ ” Smith chides goodnaturedly.

Trott lets out a muffled chuckle. He pads back over and drops a very saliva-covered toy into Smith’s hands.

“Eugh...Thanks, mate...”

Trott laughs.

Smith throws the toy a few more times, listening to the _shff shff shff_ of knee pads scuffing across carpet. They play a modified tug of war, too. He doesn’t pull, just holds the toy in place, and Trott doesn’t tug very hard either. They don’t want to damage that smile of his.

“ _Grrr_.” Trott growls playfully with the toy in his mouth.

“Drop it.” Smith says, grinning at Trott’s muffled noises. He holds his hand out for Trott to give him the toy back. “ _Drop it_...”

Trott lets go, and Smith shakes the saliva off. “Good boy! One last time, alright? Ready? Get it!”

Trott fetches after the toy again, and clambers back at a quicker speed, barreling into Smith’s chest on the return.

“Wh-!” Smith is knocked backwards onto the floor with a thud.

Trott pushes him down with his hands on Smith’s shoulders, and licks all over his face.

“Trott, down boy!” Smith laughs as Trott peppers his face with licks and kisses.

Trott’s bright-eyed and beaming, and he wiggles his hips to loudly wag his tail back and forth.

“Yuck...” Smith tosses the toy aside where it had been dropped on his chest, and wipes the drool off his cheek. “Jeeze, Trott, watch it- _Oof_.”

Trott flops down to lay on Smith’s chest with his chin on his hands, arms folded in front of him and his legs in the air, ankles crossed. His lower torso is lying between Smith’s legs.

“Are you gonna let me get up?” Smith asks, a little winded.

Trott shakes his head.

“No? Oh, _alright_...” Smith sighs in mock annoyance. He reaches up and scritches behind Trott’s ear affectionately.

Trott is all smiles.

 

“I feel safe.” Trott says later in the day, after the scene is over and they’re curled together on the bed. “It’s a really nice feeling.”

The belt with the tail, the collar, the toy, and the knee pads are in a pile on the floor. Smith feels really satisfied and happy by the outcome. He can’t complain, when the scene ends with his arms full of Trott.

Smith lifts his arm from around Trott’s waist to brush a lock of hair out of his brown eyes. “You look so relaxed. I like taking care of you, like this.”

Trott smiles sleepily. “It most certainly has it’s benefits.”

“I feel important, and needed,” Smith admits, “and I’m glad that you feel that way, too.”

“You _are_ important and needed _out of scene_ , Smith. Not just in it.”

“I know...it’s just, less obvious sometimes. When we do stuff like this, it’s...” Smith trails off and shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s easy to tell, I guess.” He smiles.

Trott kisses him, and smiles back.


End file.
